Locked out
by SherlockMuser
Summary: Oneshot. Sherlock's home alone and goes out, only then realising that John has his keys and he's locked out, and it starts raining.  John to the rescue! I own absolutely nothing. John/Sherlock. M for strong language and extreme sexual content. Enjoy!


**A/N So It's 3:30 in the morning, I can't sleep and this random idea for a short fic came into my head. At this point Sherlock and John are an item, just so you don't get at all confused :)**

**Sherlock goes for a bit of a walk in this so if I got the geography and time it takes to walk places wrong, blame google maps. I just searched for 221b Baker Street and decided a suitable path for him to take, I don't actually know that area of London at all xD**

**I'm rather enjoying the thought of Benedict Cumberbatch naked right now, as you will probably be able to tell from the first paragraph. And some rather entertaining thoughts involving a riding crop are coming into my head, but I'm not sure how they're going to work in this story, so… Another time maybe xD**

**Oneshot.**

**WARNING: Slashy goodness towards the end :D**

Locked out

Sherlock stood alone in the flat. Mrs Hudson was on holiday, and John was at Harry's for the day. Sherlock felt free – Completely and utterly free to do whatever he pleased. He felt akin to a child when all family members were out to the first time. Sherlock was contemplating what to do. He could do a seriously crazy experiment that John and Mrs Hudson would disapprove of greatly, or he could walk around naked, or he could conduct this experiment WHILST naked, or, or… No. What if there was an emergency, say his experiment caught fire and he had to run for his life? He'd be standing in the middle of Baker Street completely naked, and no doubt word would get round and Anderson and Donovan would come to laugh. No, nudity was definitely not the best idea.

After a short while of pondering, Sherlock decided he would go out. Surprisingly, he found himself not particularly liking the eerie quietness of the flat, and he hadn't been for a walk around London for a long time. Runs, yes, but they were usually in the dark being chased by a criminal of some sort or another. Sherlock had just got out the door, and shut it with a definite thud, when he realised something.

He'd given his key to John who had lost his the other day.

Oh shit.

It wasn't particularly warm either, and Sherlock looked up to see that a huge grey cloud was lurking ominously overhead. Great, just great, he thought. He looked at his watch. It was 10:37 and Sherlock decided to have some brunch in the Café right next to where he lived. It wasn't worth panicking yet, he told himself. John wasn't going to leave his sister at a moment's notice just because his boyfriend had gone out of the flat without a bloody key. Well, actually, he probably would. But Sherlock chose to ignore that fact. He liked the idea of being stranded for a little while and then his knight in a knitted jumper could come and save him. It seemed terribly romantic. Sickeningly so, but romance was good in relationships.

He went into the café and ordered a bacon sandwich and a coffee. He sat down, thinking about what he could do all day. He could go over to Scotland Yard and get on Lestrade's nerves. That sounded fun, but not as appealing without John with him, who thoroughly enjoyed watching Sherlock easily pickpocket the poor detective. Oh, screw it, Sherlock thought. I'll just be normal today. I'll go for a walk around Regent's park. He ate his bacon sandwich and drank his coffee, and paid the waitress without a tip; didn't want her getting the wrong idea.

He was quite surprised as he saw the park properly. He had gone through this park so many times in a rush, but he'd never had the chance to admire the beauty of it. He stood, looking out over the boating lake, and thought about what a ghastly experience that must be. Going around in circles on an expanse of cold water, you could fall in any moment. Sherlock shuddered. He hated being wet. Actually, it depended what he was wet _with_, he thought with a smirk on his face, and found himself missing John already. He carried on walking until he got to the outskirts of London Zoo, and shuddered again. He hated animals. Smelly, dirty, disease-ridden, good for nothing creatures. He wondered if Mycroft had anybody spying on him today, and if he did, that person must think him a complete freak. He was walking around Regent's Park and kept randomly shuddering. He laughed quietly to himself.

As it approached midday, Sherlock found the inevitable happening. He was bored. He wondered if John would get annoyed if he was called right now being asked to come and let Sherlock back into the flat. He probably wouldn't be, considering how much tension there normally was between him and his sister, he'd see it as a godsend. Maybe John even took Sherlock's key deliberately. Sherlock decided to walk back to the flat and then call John, as he would only get irritated if he got back to the flat and Sherlock was still out.

Sherlock began to walk back to 221b Baker Street, when he felt something on his nose. And then another one on his hand. He looked up at the sky, and that ominous cloud had decided to show no mercy. In no time at all it was pouring, and Sherlock decided it would be healthier to run back to the flat, wishing he'd brought his scarf. As he reached Baker Street, he deemed it wiser to stop running and start walking at a normal pace so that he could catch his breath. When he reached his door, he stopped and got out his phone, shielding it against the rain. He dialled John's number.

"Hi, this is Dr. John Watson. I'm busy right now, so leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can." FUCK. "Beeeeeep"

"Hey John it's me, Sherlock. You have my key and I'm locked outside and the heavens have opened and I would very much like to get into the flat. Could you please come home as soon as is humanly possible? Thanks."

Sherlock was not a happy bunny. The one time he needed John to be here he was away. And he didn't know when he'd be back. Well at least his boyfriend was a doctor, he'd be needing one when he was dying of pneumonia. He sat down outside the door to 221b, resigned to either drowning or dying, and waited.

John was really quite pleased with himself. He was spending the day with his sister, and so far, it was bearable. They'd gone to the cinema, and then to a pub for a nice lunch and a drink. It was only in the pub when he attempted to check the time from his phone that he realised it was still off from being in the cinema. He switched it on, and saw that he had a new voicemail. From Sherlock. He listened to it.

That was not good. Message received at 12:30, and the time now was 2:10. That was not good at all.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. Long story short, I lost my key to the flat so my partner gave me his and now he's locked out and it's raining and he's been there since 12:30. I have to go. I had a brilliant time though."

He didn't even wait for an answer, he just grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and left the pub, hailing a taxi. And bloody hell was it pouring.

"Baker Street." He said to the taxi driver, and got out his phone and started texting.

**So sorry. Was in cinema. On my way.**

**JW**

He sat there impatiently, panicking slightly- no, a lot, and told himself to pull together. Nothing logical crossed his mind at all, like why he hadn't told Sherlock to go inside anywhere or why Sherlock hadn't thought of that himself, but he wasn't thinking straight. Oh, God, he hoped Sherlock wouldn't get ill. As the taxi pulled up on the curb, John shoved two tenners into the driver's hand, telling him to keep the change. He ran over to 221b to find a huddled up Sherlock, shivering on the ground outside the door. He reached down and made him stand upright, holding him close and rubbing his hands all over him for warmth. He was drenched to the bone. John fumbled for his key, clumsily opening the door and shutting it again behind them. He put it in his pocket and walked up the stairs with Sherlock still in his arms, and sat him down on the sofa in the living room.

"John," The drenched man managed to say between spasms of chattering teeth, "What took you so long, you bastard?"

"Why didn't you go into the café?" John asked, slightly exasperated.

"Panicked," Came the simple response from the self proclaimed genius. Huh. "And don't answer my questions with questions."

John rolled his eyes, before remembering what he was meant to be doing.

"Look, Sherlock, I'm going to need you to take off all of your wet clothes."

Sherlock took off his coat and started unbuttoning his shirt. His hands were shaking, so John helped him, undoing his buttons with one hand, the other trying to get the shirt off Sherlock's shoulders. Despite the circumstances, John found himself liking this very much. As he went to take off Sherlock's jeans, it seemed that he did too. He looked up at his partner, who was still shivering, but had a slight smirk and dilated pupils. John carried on as if this man were anybody else, apart from, he couldn't stop at just the jeans. After all of Sherlock's clothes bar his shorts were in a sodden pile on the floor, John decided that he might as well make this an enjoyable experience for the man.

"To warm you up, normally I would have done one of two things," The doctor said in a slow voice, saturated with lust. "First option, make you take a warm shower and then dry you thoroughly," John looked at Sherlock's reaction. He seemed to like the sound of that one.

"Or, second option, I could strip down as well and give you lots of my lovely body heat."  
Sherlock liked this one better. A LOT better. He liked it so much, in fact, that he started yanking John's jumper over his head. John looked at him solemnly.

"But," he started, liking seeing Sherlock confused and slightly let down, knowing it wouldn't last, "Because I am feeling rather guilty about the whole thing, how about we combine the two?"

A grin appeared on Sherlock's face, and he continued to undress John. When they were both naked, John took Sherlock by the wrist and they went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

"After you," John said, knowing Sherlock needed the warm water more than he did. He watched Sherlock step in, and Sherlock shut his eyes and hissed at the sudden warmness after being so cold. He opened his eyes after a second or two, and beckoned for John to get in.

The shower was really quite cramped, but that was ideal. Almost as soon as John got in, Sherlock grabbed him around the waist and whispered, "Now how about that body heat you were talking about?" and then rubbed his erection against John's. John moaned, and couldn't even imagine how Sherlock was feeling, as he knew that sudden temperature changes did crazy things to the nerves. John moved his hands up to Sherlock's head and kissed him hard. He then started moving his hands down Sherlock's body, which was still surprisingly cold despite the very warm water gushing down over the two of them. He traced his hands over Sherlock's neck, down his shoulders to his hands, which were holding onto John's hips, moving him in unison with Sherlock's thrusting. He took hold of these hands and moved them towards his boner, and Sherlock got the hint and moved his hands expertly around the penis that had become so familiar to him.

John did the same, and before long, the two of them were bucking into each other's hands, and the hand movements became erratic. They were both close to coming, and as John moved his hand up Sherlock's penis one more time, he gave it a gentle squeeze, moving his thumb over the head of it, and Sherlock came. The throaty noise he made as he emptied his load over John's hand pushed John over the edge as well, and he orgasmed as well.

They were both panting, and washing the come off each other using the shower head, and when they were both suitably clean, John pulled Sherlock in for a hug. Sherlock hugged back, and John spoke into his ear, putting on his best 'GP Voice'.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, you seem to have warmed up sufficiently. Now let's get you dried and go out for some drinks and some dinner."  
"Thank you, Dr. Watson," Sherlock purred in response, "I feel a lot better now."

"Feel free to come back any time you need anything else." John said with a smile, turning off the water and getting out of the shower.

"Oh, trust me, I will," He replied with a wink, following John out and kissing him.

**A/N So what did you think of my first slash scene? :D I thoroughly, ahem, enjoyed writing it, and I hope you can get just as much fun out of it from reading!  
Review please, I'd really appreciate advice on how I can improve! *huggles***

**Mary x :)**


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